Have You Ever Seen a One Armed Man Punching at Nothing but the Breeze

Review: The Wrestler

I'm a huge fan of Darren Aronofsky. Before The Fountain, I had to argue with many that he wasn't purely the MTV stylist that Requiem for the Dream tagged him as. Don't get me wrong, Aronofsky is an amazing visualist. The Fountain only proves that. With that film (one that i waited six years dying for) he took himself to the next level of cinematic craft, creating a visually innovative and stunning film, as well as an emotional one. There is an underlying humanity beneath all the pretty flash of Requiem and Fountain, and with The Wrestler, that flash has been stripped as bare as the soul of lead role Mickey Rourke's Randy "the Ram" Robinson. All that's left is his humanity. And boy is it a beauty to see.



Much has been and will be made of Mickey Rourke's performance. It's not hyperbole. Rouke deserves every word dedicated to his accolades. It's been a long time coming. The Wrestler is the role Rouke was born to play. I'm so glad that Aronofsky stood by his gut, and took a budget cut; Nicholas Cage gracefully stepping aside and backing Rourke a role written for him. The film works on a meta level. The Ram's career mirroring Rourke's own.

Randy: "The 90's sucked"

Yes they did for Rouke, who literally disappeared for the screens for a decade before returning in smaller character roles thanks to Robert Rodriguez and Tony Scott. If this film had a subtitle it'd be the Passion of Mickey Rourke. As Randy himself says, he's a "dired up piece of meat." A man whose career has taken as much toll as his body. Randy is washed up and alone. A daughter that hates him, and a crush on a stripper near her end much like him. Both burdened with a occupation and responsibility they cannot escape.

Yet together Marisa Tomei's Cassidy and Rourke's Ram have that beautiful chemistry of two old souls surviving the life they've been dealt. Tomei deserves her praise as much as Rourke. If anything, and its minor, its that at age 44 she's still too beautiful to play a washed up stripper. Would you say no to a naked Marisa Tomei standing in front of you? I'm half her age and I don't think so. But despite that physicality its Tomei's working class, brown beaten spirit that shines through. She's a glimmer of hope in both the film and Randy's life.

Also not to go unnoticed is Evan Rachel Wood. I've had my eye on her since Once and Again years ago. She's come a long way since Thirteen. Wood's screen time is brief but brimming with emotion. There's beauty in her few scenes with Rourke that really does capture a girl that would like nothing better to have a Daddy again. A father Randy never was, and never can be.

All this is grounded by Aronofsky's uncharacteristically plain, verte-style camera. Rourke is introduced through a series of tracking back shots, Rourke's bleached hair and huge shoulder blades on display more than his mug. This is a man whose best days are behind him. He is not walking at us into a brighter future, he's walking away from former days filled with glory. The Ram's saga is built on the details that Aronofsky and cinematographer Maryse Alberti (in place of his usual collaborator Matthew Libatique) loving capture with deft subtly. This is a film about how Randy prepares to face the world, whether it his audience or the deli counter he works at (in an wonderfully reversed Raging Bull-like entrance). Whether it's with bandages, steriods, bleach and tanning, or hair nets and swallowing pride, the every day minutia of the Ram's life is the journey.

It all builds to a beautiful final rematch with The Ram's old foe, The Ayatollah. It ends with a staunch ambiguity that lets the viewers decide as they are sheparded out the door to an amazing original track by The Boss himself, Bruce Springsteen (who should hopefully win Best Song Oscar. Go download it now.)

The Wrestler is a film with its heart on its sleeve. I hope it gives a gold statue to Rourke and opens more doors for Aronofsky. Together they've crafted a touching modern tragedy, and one of the best films of the year.

I'm the dude playin' the dude, disguised as another dude!

Review: Tropic Thunder

So, after three weeks of it being the number one movie in America, I finally got around to see Tropic Thunder. I can’t say that it was “built up” for me. It wasn’t, in fact of the people I knew who saw it they said simply, it’s funny.

And it is funny. In fact the way the movie starts with it’s pseudo-commercials/fake movie trailers are priceless. People in the theatre didn’t know what was going on. It was quite hilarious. So was the beginning part of the film within the film also called Tropic Thunder.

So lets go with the positive. Robert Downey Jr. owns the movie. Owns it. You can see the movie just for him and be satisfied. I’m so happy to see his return to glory this year. He deserves it. And his fake trailer with its amazing cameo is priceless. Simply priceless.

Also Jay Baruchel aka Steven Karp from Undeclared is great. He doesn’t have much to do here, but he’s great. I love me some Steven Karp. I’m really hoping him and Seth Rogen do that post-apocalyptic movie that showed up as a short on Youtube a few months ago, Jay & Seth vs The Apocalypse. I’m sold for that, especially after all the post-apocalyptic movies that have been coming out of late.



Also someone whose every line made me smile was Danny McBride. This is his break out year (I had only previously known him as Bustass in David Gordon Green’s All the Real Girls) with this, coupled with Pineapple Express, he’s in the two big comedy blockbusters of the summer. And he kills.

Unfortunately, the movie has problems. The narrative seems like a dead weight hanging around the movies neck, and the things that move it into place are boring. Its surprisingly graphically violent. More so then I expected, but that’s not a major problem. The problem is that some jokes fall dead. There are points in the film when I know that I’m supposed to laugh but I wasn’t and that shouldn’t be. Yes, comedy is hit and miss, but true classics don’t have that sound of crickets I found myself going through too many times. Now granted, there are equal killer moments, but in the end it just seems like a wash. The film is absurd to the extreme, which I’m fine with if it garners greater laughs. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. There were many times I felt myself saying, “no they didn’t” even though it was telegraphed it was going to happen. And I’m not part of the Jack Black hating crew, but he rubbed me the wrong way in this film, and his storyline was contrived. Though he did have one of the greatest lines of the film.

When all is said and done, Tropic Thunder really is like Downey's line above. Its a dumb Hollywood blockbuster pretending to be a comedy satire of big Hollywood blockbuster war flicks that's really just that, a big summer blockbuster.

Overall, both Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder, the summer’s two blockbuster’s failed me. Good for a laugh, but I won’t see them again anytime soon. Well maybe Pineapple (which I enjoyed more). That’s such a DVD movie.

Vicky Cristina Woody Allen

Review: Vicky Cristina Barcelona

I am a huge Woody Allen fan.

I've practically written a thesis on him, The Six Types of Woody Allen. The basic gist of it is that Woody films fit into Six basic categories:

1) The Early Funny Ones (pure comedy's): Sleeper, Bananas, Annie Hall, Bullets over Broadway, Hollywood Endings

2) Bergmanesque (hardcore dramas): Interiors, September, Husbands & Wives

3) Felliniesque (Surreal existential pieces/autobiograpichal pieces): Stardust Memories, Deconstructing Harry, Celebrity, Radio Days, Mighty Aphrodite

4) Psuedocumentary (Mockumentaries/ narratives include documentary devices): Take the Money and Run, Zelig, Sweet and Lowdown

5) Magical/Fantastical(those that feature supernatural or out there elements): Alice, Scoop, Everyone Says I Love You, Purple Rose of Cairo and his New York Stories segment Oedipus Wrecks

And finally something I like to call 6) Pure Woody Allen (dramatic stories featuring humor whose homages are less outright and are often novelistic in narrative): Manhattan, Hannah and her Sisters, Crimes and Misdemeanors

The thing about critiquing a Woody Allen film is that you inevitably compare it to his other works (Match Point is the dramatic narrative echo of Crimes and Misdemeanors minus the Woody part). This is both a hobby of Woody fans as well as a sometime unfair standpoint(oh it was good, but it was no Annie Hal, etc). Unfortunately it's bound to happen, and while that may lay undue criticism on works that would be hailed by other artist, it's just bound to happen for a man who puts out a film per year and has such a large oeuvre as Woody.

This leads us to Woody's latest flick, Vicky Cristina Barcelona. I'm gonna try to make this review as non-Woody Allen fan friendly as possible while still being a Woody Allen fan.

To put it simply, Vicky Cristina is simply charming. Allen has taken the invitation from Spain for financing and fashioned a little story that is fill with beautiful people in a beautiful place trying to figure out who they are. It's a postcard to Barcelona. It's a forties travelogue film(right down to the iris ins and outs, where you lose yourself for 90 minutes a visit another country from the comfort of your movie theatre seat. It has all the Woody staples. The Title cards. The Great music. The existential dialogue. It's quite pretty. So are its stars. Bardem and Cruz have a sizzling hot energy to them and their interaction (fights alternating between Spanish and English, subtle physical movements that mark them as former lover) are fun to behold. Scarlett, while also pretty to look at, doesn't need to do much and plays what she is dealt (her highlight being beguiled by Bardem's Juan Antonio when he invites her and her friend for a threesome). Rebecca Hall also impressed with her woman finding less and less satisfaction with her marriage after being not but. Her storyline was unexpected for me and she had some nice points. She also is the current film bearer of the "Woody Allen tick" torch (for those not in the know, in films Allen doesn't star in there is inevitably an actor who carries his mannerism. Whether this is there way of speaking his dialogue or something Allen imposes himself, I am quite curious about.) Patricia Clark also has a nice, albeit protracted arc, but she puts the most into it. But while this is all well and good, Vicky Cristina is not without its problems.

The chief of which is the omniscience narrator whose voice over guides us through the film. While literary and useful at first to set the stage of the film, the voice over's continued use through only robs the film of actual growth. Why see Cristina's dissatisfaction when we can be told about it. It's the cardinal sin of telling, not showing that keeps the film from being great. We are told about things that we should see onscreen, things that would bring us closer to the characters and help us empathize. Instead the narration keeps us at arms length and shorts the characters development that is sorely needed. Instead of complete characters we get sketches. The brooding mysterious artist, the woman in search for herself, the crazy ex wife, etc.) The storylines of Vicky Cristina are ripe with possibilities not fully explored because of unrounded characters. I just invented a word.

Penelope might not get naked, but she's still smoking.

Also, fair warning, I know Vicky Cristina has gotten a lot of buzz because of its storyline and the potential threesome and Scarlett and Cruz's spit swapping. If that is what your looking for in this film, you came to the wrong theatre. It's there, but in a restrained tasteful way. Gratuitous isn't in the film's vocabulary, and that's probably want you want when you think of Johansson and Cruz making out in a darkroom. Could the sex scenes be hotter or even existent? I guess, but that's not what the film was about. I will say the Johansson Bardem sex scene, while not even remotely graphic, is shot absolutely beautiful for a way the gives you the sex without showing anything and resorting to the "pan to fireworks" sort of cliche. Vicky Cristina really isn't about sex. In fact, sex in the film is quite empty or simple just enjoyable for sex sake. The film is actually about relationships and finding fulfillment in them( including sex, artistic inspiration, friendship, relationship stability, self fulfillment).

Anyway, for those Allen fans out there, I stick it in the Pure Woody Allen category. Its like a more serious Midsummer's Night Sex Comedy. A Barcelona Night Sex Drama. Ironically enough Midnight in Barcelona was a working title. Its charming and pleasant and pretty to look at. Allen directs it well and the story has novelistic echos (Vicky's storyline echoing Judy's, Cristina's and Vicky's playing off one another) however, when put into perspective with the likes of Hannah and Manhattan, Vicky invariably falls short.

But its not supposed to be a masterwork, its simply a good film. It's better than most out there. Unfortunately Woody's worst enemy is himself.

Here's looking at you Woody.

Sidenote: Personal Top 10 Woody Allen Films
1) Stardust Memories
2) Interiors
3) Crimes and Misdemeanors
4) Sleepers
5) Hannah and her Sisters
6) Husbands and Wives
7) Zelig
8) Purples Rose of Cairo
9) Manhattan
10) Match Point

Fly Like Paper, Get High Like Planes

Review: Pineapple Express

I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet. I’ve seen Pineapple twice now, and I still feel the same way. It’s okay. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time. I laughed a little. Enjoyed Franco’s Saul a shit ton. Found Danny McBride hilarious. And there were some lines that I found very quotable. I love David Gordon Green and Tim Orr, and they did bang up job. I hope this opens a lot of doors for Green. Its just at the end of the day, I found it enjoyable but forgettable, and I guess I wanted more. That might be my own personal problem, not the film’s fault. I wanted to love it. Instead I enjoyed it.

But that trailer for it was dope.

The Night is Always Darkest Before the Dawn

Review: The Dark Knight


I’ve been waiting for this film. I’ve been waiting since I watched a magical film known as Tim Burton’s Batman over and over again as a kid. I’ve been waiting since I got into comics and read Frank Miller’s Year One & Dark Knight Returns along with Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke. And I’ve been waiting since Chris Nolan put Batman and Gordon on a rooftop at the end of his fantastic Batman Begins, had them talk about escalation and showed us a Joker Card. It was then that a pact with the audience was made. Not just for a sequel, but one that could rule them all. A cinematic version of Batman the likes of which has never been seen on screen. A truly disturbing, maniacal Joker, a truly detective Batman, a Dark Knight. Three years later, promise fulfilled. And then some.

The Dark Knight is everything I hoped it would be and more. This is not only a phenomenal Batman film, it’s a great film. Period. End of story. I’m not gonna call it the Godfather 2 of superhero movies. Though it is a great crime film. I will call it Batman’s Empire Strikes Back. But not only that, the reason why you have to see it. The reason why everyone will be talking about it is that its done what comic fans have known for a long time.
Comics can be adult too.

This film is for everybody who cringes when someone’s total view of comics is the SLAM, POW, BOOM, of the old Adam West Batman series. Yes, comics can be corny and lightweight, just like movies can. But just like the film medium, they can also be adult, strikingly intellectual and dramatically heartbreaking. And that’s what tale that Christopher and Jonathan Nolan along with David Goyer have crafted.

And this is craft, from all the people involved. From a beautifully tragic script, to often stunning cinematography by Wally Pfister, everyone is firing on all cylinders. I can’t heap enough credit on Nolan. He went in and declared he was going to make the film his way. And boy did he ever. I adore Batman Begins. Until this, it was the purest representation of the Batman I love to be realized onscreen. Some however had beef with how Batman’s fight sequences were depicted. I have heard the “choppy editing” criticism many times. I personally had no problem with The Begins sequences. I felt the montage gave Batman an almost mythic quality, a force of justice and fear that he never fully had onscreen. It made the “Batman sneaks up on crooks” scenes the way they should feel, frightening. Well it’s like Nolan heard the criticism from some and took it as the throwing down of the cinematic gauntlet. Most of Batman’s fights are choreographed in continuous long takes where you simply watch Batman just dismantle hood after hood on his path to his target. Nothing will get in his way. And it’s Bale, and you know he’s unstoppable. It was the biggest “take that” Nolan could do. There’s one scene where Bruce Wayne, in a tux no less, just tears through a henchman and dismantle’s his shotgun with the ease of rolling out of bed. It’s just one of the many badass moment’s within this film.

Another thing I simply have to mention is the pacing. In Begins, the first forty mintues flew by. And those first forty hold a lot of powerful stuff, so much to the fact, that on first viewing, I felt they almost didn’t have enough time. That’s a criticism that has changed over multiple viewings. However Dark Knight moves like a freight train. It hits the ground running and never stops. It’s a rollercoaster tragedy. The pacing, like the film itself, pulls no punches, and just constantly moves, grows and astounds you. This isn’t even a Batman film. It’s the ensemble of Gotham City. Every character, large to small gets their due. I’m talking about bit part cops on Gordon’s crew included. What the Nolan’s have done with these characters is make them real, and with giving each of them a spotlight to create a tangabile world. Gotham is a place of graft and greed like no other city you’ve seen. The only good people who survive it, do so with major causalities. But they do survive. And they continue on, even in the face of insurmountable odds. And because of that, despite all the death and darkness, The Dark Knight is actually about hope and the prices you pay for it.

So let’s talk about performances. Heath. Everyone will be talking about Heath. And rightly so. His Joker is electrifiying to watch onscreen. He totally disappears into the role. And does what so would deem the unthinkable, makes it his own in the face of Nicholson’s performance. That’s a bold task to achieve. And a achieve it he does. They way he deliver’s “Do you want to know how I got my scars?” is absolutely classic. His Joker has his own psychology that is totally askewed form a normal reality, yet wholly intact. The performance is beautiful to watch, down to the ragdoll like skipping away from the hospital. He just nails it. It’s such a shame that he’s gone. This performance would have shot him to superstardom.

And of course there’s Bale. He IS Batman. He now owns the role in my mind. Bale owns the psychology, the front of a goof playboy, the rage and force of nature that is Batman, and the moral compass that is the true Bruce Wayne. I love how it takes a village to make Batman too. Batman wouldn’t be Batman without the support structure he’s establish of Caine’s Alfred as his heart and conscisous, Freeman as his own personal Q, and Oldman’s Gordon as his partner in a war against crime. All of these men are stellar in their roles. Lets specifically mention Oldman though. Of the three of them, he is given the most to do, and God, does he do it beautifully. Oldman disappears into Gordon, one of the few good cops in a city of corruption. Who would have thought Drexel would become the truest representation of Gordon we’ve seen. This is the Gordon written about in Frank Miller’s Year One. The one that puts his job before everything, sometimes to the detreatment of his family. Can we talk about how badass and overdue it is to simply have Batman talk on a roof with the signal. Did it need to take five movies to make that happen?


Also great is Gyllenhaal, who brilliantly steps into the role of Rachel. Maggie has a thankless part here, but she plays it well. Her chemistry with Bruce seems real, and they look better together. Katie Holmes always looked to young for Bale, and I believed she was a an attorney about as much as I believed Denise Richards as a nuclear physicist in The World is Not Enough. Maggie is real, and her relationship with Harvey totally logical. Apparently Rachel loves to get it on with coworkers, it was subtly hinted that Rachel and a thing with the now dead DA form Begins as well. Office whore. Anyway, when Gyllenhaal is called upon, she absolutely nails it, and its heartbreaking.

Which leads us to the films unsung hero, Aaron Eckhart’s Harvey Dent. This is Eckhart’s role of a lifetime. I’ve always liked him, particularly in Thank You for Smoking and the little seen but tender Conversations with Other Women. Here, Eckhart shines as Gotham’s White Knight District Attorney. He is just a good man, trying to do his best in a dark world. His lines are instantly memorable and his work subtle. Eckhart gets to bring his nice guy image but add it with a hint of darkness that replaces the smartasses he’s usually called upon to play. His gentleness combined with his darkness creates a fascinating human being whose fall is Shakespearian in it’s tragedy. When Dent flips the coin, it really is a tossup as to what will happen. And Two Face, whoa, this ain’t your Tommy Lee Jones neon pink make-up. I’m so proud of how they have kept Two Face’s look hidden from the public. In this day and age of internet leaking, its astonishing and makes it’s reveal in the film all the more terrifying. This is Tim Sale’s Two Face all the way, and Eckhart owns the role, just as much as Ledger does his. I really can’t praise him enough, he’s almost the main character of the film and I hope gets recognized for his work.

In fact, I hope that this film does get the recognition it deserves (I’m looking at you Oscar). This film should be lauded across the board. It’s not just a comic book film, it’s a piece of art. It’s one of the best films of the year to date, followed by Wall-E, Iron Man, and Snow Angels. Check out that list. Who’d have thought I’d see the day where two absolutely fantastic superhero movies come out in the same year and are amazing for the exact opposite reasons.

My only qualm, is where do we go from here? How do you top this, or continue on? Even a great third film will be slightly diminished compared to this. Who do you use? Will we see a Zodiac style Riddler take the stage, throwing Gotham into Chaos again and leaving Gordon cryptic messages signed only by a question mark? Might the Penguin pop up as a secondary mob boss on Gotham’s transition to freak town? By the end of Dark Knight, all our heroes have taken significant losses, some more then others. What will Wayne’s arc be? He’s at a pretty low point by the end of the film, what he needs in the third film is glimmer of hope. Will they do this by making a first true Catwoman? Don’t get me wrong Michelle Pfeiffer is iconic as the Catwoman she was cast to be, but that’s not the Catwoman of the comics. Not the jewel thief with questionable morals. Not the woman who is a female Batman of sorts, who is his equal, and who finds him as wildly attractive as he finds her. To go there would be to do what Ledger has done here, go a completely different route form their predecessor and make the role their own. That’s a tough act to follow.

And so is this film, but Nolan and crew are more than up for the challenge. It is always darkest before the dawn. And the dawn is coming!

Go see this film, then see it in IMAX, then see it again. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.


Sidenote: The Dark Knight grossed 66.4mil in it's openning day. The largest openning ever in 24 hours.

Advanced Screenings: Diary of the Dead

Believe me, this was not how I imagined spending my Valentine’s Day.

Seeing an add in the Village Voice my friend and I sent an email to get two free tickets to a screening of George Romero’s new entry into the zombie world, Diary of the Dead. Not twenty seconds later we received an email back. And we knew we were seeing the movie.

Romero’s latest is something totally different from his previous zombie films. Gone are the mass extra filled frames of his previous efforts. Gone are the big names and Hollywood action that comprised his previous entry, Land of the Dead. Diary consists of “found footage” culled from two on scene cameras, as well as various web videos, security, and handi-cam footage. This entry follows the makeshift film school crew, who in the mists of making there own horror film, inadvertently discover the scarier documentary in the world around them, when the dead rise. Their film is The Death of Death.

I don’t claim to be a Romero enthusiast or disciple. The only previous film I have seen of his is the cult classic Dawn of the Dead. While I certainly respect Romero’s brand of B-horror/social commentary, Dawn wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. Diary however I find far more fascinating.

It is interesting that Romero has chosen the “found footage” technique for this piece. It’s also unfortunate that it will probably garner comparison to the other found footage movie of late, Cloverfield. While the two films are wildly dissimilar, they share the same narrative problem:

Why, for God’s sakes, are you still filming this?

While Cloverfield addresses this problem up front and then moves on to the good stuff, Romero has other plans. George is more interested in the fact that they are still filming, unfortunately his why, the director's incessant need to document the situation, falls flat under the numerous, and unlikely occasions it is addressed. Romero is offering up a zombie filled criticism on the Youtube generation mass media machine. It’s a brilliant point he’s driving; the problem is that he drives it a little too hard and often. Dairy’s heavy handedness is it’s undoing.

The stilted “meaning of life, why is this happening” dialogue of the film counteracts the inherit realism it is trying to achieve. At no point do the events we view feel real, and Romero is too much of a showman to pass of up cool tricks. The fact the kids would take the time, while in the middle of a zombie filled world, in a black militia encampment to steal their surveillance footage to enhance their doc is asinine. While it provides us the cool “oh look they are editing the scene we just watched” moment, it also detaches us from the film. So does the director, refusing to drop his camera and run after witnessing a friend shoot two zombie’s dead to remain in the same room with the corpses tethered to the wall as the camera charges while the rest of his posse goes off to experience off screen horrors. These and numerous other instances feel false to the real world aesthetic and only take you out of the picture. However, it’s this same detachment that Romero wants to examine.

If it’s not on camera it doesn’t happen.

That’s the mantra repeated numerous times throughout the film. Unfortunately no human would be this compulsive to get things on camera. After the director/cameraman Jason’s girlfriend’s family is found zombified and the killed, he doesn’t even stop the camera to console her. Romero does afford the couple some feeling; Jason puts down the camera in an out of focus shot to console Debra. He then rudely, immediately resumes his camera duties. How great would it be to have him talk to Deb, see her grieving, turn off the camera and then only see them in the aftermath of their talk? It would be akin to what Rodriguez did in Planet Terror with his missing reel, allowing character relationships to move forward with the climax unseen. The viewer then fills in the blanks for themselves. But then again:

If it’s not on camera it doesn’t happen.

Romero isn’t interested in a character study, this is social commentary we are talking about, and thus, moments like this are missed.

Don’t get me wrong though, Romero does nail some things perfectly on the head. The opening scene is enthralling and totally sets up the piece. Every zombie attack and death is handled with horror buff delight. The tension and dread are readily apparent when not uncut by the comical. And then there are the overtop, cheesy touches that just fill you with geek glee.

Samuel the deaf Amish zombie killer, anyone?

Oh yes indeed. But unfortunately there is too much cheese in Diary to make it a tasty or thoughtful dessert. Romero aspires to great things, and for that I applauded the effort, unfortunately the film ends up coming short. If I cared about these characters, it’d be one thing. If I was allowed to forget the gimmick and go with the movie, it would be another. But sadly, neither is true, which leaves Diary a fascinating if stunted experience. It’s worth a look for diehards, and horror buffs, but nothing to write on your Myspace page about. But hey, on the plus side, it was a free ticket for a 95 minute ride.

And I got an email from George Romero.

Diary of the Dead opens Friday February 15th in select cities.

While you are reading this, a monster is attacking the City

Review: Cloverfield

It started in the summer. I was sitting in the theatre waiting to watch a little movie. You may have heard of it. It was called Transformers. I was giddy as a school boy cause I was about to relive my childhood where Optimus Prime would transform from a Mack truck into the battle-ready, Megatron-kicking leader of the Autobots. I could barely contain myself. As the lights dimmed I prepared for the two hour plus ass kicking of giants robots blowing shit up.

I had no idea what I was in for.

As crappy Coke commercials gave way to actually trailers (remember the days when there weren’t commercials in front of movies? Those days I sorely miss.) I had no idea what lay ahead. Up popped what looked like some lo-fi inde film about some youngsters sending off their friend to Japan or something. This was an odd choice to start with I thought to myself, but I totally dug it. Then, the power went out. And everyone in the theatre was like “wtf mate?” Very soon these same 20-somethings were rushing to the rooftop with their videocam POV.

And then a building exploded. The audience literally flipped.

As the hipsters ran down the stairs and out the building, whispers rushed along the crowd. What the hell were we watching? As we moved to the streets, there was an explosion in the distance. Then the statue of liberty head landed in the middle of the street.

The audience flipped.
I turned to my friend. If this was the new Godzillia, I was sooooo there. The words flashed on the screen.
From producer J.J. Abrams.
The Lost guy?
01-18-08.
And then black. No title.
Nothing.

My mind was racing. What had I just seen? I wanted to know. A monster movie from a found-footage POV interested the hell out of me. It was so good; it made me forget that I was about to see Transformers. Giant fucking robots blowing shit up! I forgot I was going to see my childhood on the screen.

This was my first experience with the marketing phenomenon known as Cloverfield.

On the drive home, it wasn’t Optimus Prime and Bumblebee we were talking about it, it was what was that no named movie. I said anything by the creator of Lost and Alias is worth a look to me. We made a pact we see it as soon as it came out.

I went home, hopped on yea old internet and discovered that it wasn’t directed by J.J only produced, this guy named Matt Reeves was in the chair. And it was written by Drew Goddard, who I knew from Lost, and that was good in my book.

Friends thought I was crazy. Blairwitch Godzillia? Come on! But I maintained that if it was executed with half of the intelligence as that trailer, I would be set. In my heart I’m as down for a good monster movie as I am two people having deep conversations over coffee.

So fast forward to opening weekend, I’m in a packed theatre about to see this film. Does it work?

Oh yes it does! Cloverfield carries its gimmick through all the way. What we are supposedly watching is footage from a camera found in what was once Central Park. Reeves and Goddard get around the narrative conceits in some truly nice ways.

The first twenty minutes play out like an extended version of the trailer, as we get to know our cast at this farewell party. But once the power goes out we very quickly start coming down the other side of the rollercoaster.

One of the many smart things the film does is make the “camera man” Hud, a true character in the piece even though he is rarely glimpsed on screen. It is literally Hud’s eyes through which we watch this film and his quips and insight ground the outrageous situation. Now yes, there are times when Hud films when no one else would. He also proves to be remarkably steady in a key juncture in the film, a situation where you’d expect him to be anything but, and he’s steady as a rock. And they magically find a riff in the space time subway continuum that allows them to take a 6 train and end up in Columbus Circle. Do I care? Not in the least. If this was reality a monster wouldn’t be attacking the City. This is a semblance of reality. The one scene that really hit home was just after the Statue of Liberty head gets thrown into the streets we see people taking pictures of it with their cellphones. Let me tell you. I was in the city when the steampipe exploded back in the summer, and people were doing the same thing. I know. I was one of them. That little tidbit is so inherently "real." I love it. If something like this attacked New York, this is what it would look like.

Now some have cried foul about the 9/11-ish imagery of the film. And yes, it does help solidify the thisisreallyhappening feeling. Some feel that this is disrespectful and abusive. Well as a New Yorker, I for one, do not. It’s been a while since the attacks, and with no disrespect for the families, Cloverfield never uses the evocative imagery to pull your heartstrings.

Cloverfield is complete escapism. And smart one at that. I mean other than the utterly dumb device of trying to save a friend who’s in the middle of the monsters warpath, it completely clicks for me. And honestly, in the right mindset, I might be crazy enough to attempt that rescue myself. The love story works for me. Tons of men have done crazy things for love. Sometimes, to quote Good Will Hunting, you just "have to go see about a girl.” Just maybe not when a creature is destroying midtown and spider things from Starship Troopers are running amok(sidenote, Phil Tippet the man who made dinosaurs walk the earth in Jurrasic Park & insects crawl in Troopers had a hand in this. So its appropriate.) But really people, if they just turn tail and ran, there would be no movie. It would be a half hour film. Its already Seventy minutes (eat that!) how much shorter do you want it to be?

So do you see the monster? Well, yes and no, you get enough to get you worried, and then feel it throughout the rest. Not to worry, they give you the money shot. Boy do they ever. The effects work on this film is great, keeping it jiving with the insane world we are watching.

I’ve also heard people nitpick the characters. Or as some have put it, the lack there of. People, I don’t know about you, but I came to see a monster movie, not Squid and the Whale (which I love, but for example sake) okay? Lets see here. What’s on the movie monster checklist? Monster? Check. Scares? Check. People to fight and escape the monster? Check. Army? Check. Explosions? Check. Where did I lose you? The leads are flushed out enough in the exposition heavy opener to get you to feel enough for them. I know all I need to know. Many have griped that they are following “a bunch of white pretty rich kids.” Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t exactly afford to live in the middle of Manhattan. But you know who can? Rich, pretty white kids. And Woody Allen. Don’t turn this into revenge on the yuppies; Its not.

Cloverfield is a film you either dig it or you don’t. Me, I dig it. I think it’s the best kind of thrill ride, short, smart and sweet. It’s exactly what it should be and knows when to end. Great job by all involved. It deserves all the money its making and more. This a true theatre movie, to be seen big, loud, and with as many people as possible. This type of film is the reason going to the cinema is an event, an experience. And oh you should savor this larger than life. Count this as my first favorite film of the year. It’s sure to be a cult hit for years to come. I really loved it, but then again, there was no doubt.

They had me at Transformers.

The Dichotomy of Juno

Review: Juno

Sigh. Well a lot has been said about Juno. Critics praise it, fans embracing it. Tons of light has been thrust upon it, and not without good reason. I’ve read many reviews that hail it as “the best movie of the year.” Eighteen to be exact. That’s right. I’ve counted. And with it sweeping up Oscar nods (among them Jason Reitman best director, Ellen Page best actress, and Best Picture) the people behind this 2.5 Million budgeted, over 80 million grossing little gem must be sitting on cloud nine. So right about now is the time (according to my watch) is where the detractors come in. Now before you boo me off the stage, lets get some things straight.

I really enjoyed it. It has some honest to God genuine heart. Which is a blessing in this day in age. Cause as you read this multiplexes are filling up with the likes of 10,000 B.C. (minus Raquel Welch and plus Hal Emerich, so talk about a bad trade) and other dreck. Maybe that’s why so many critics cling to it. If I had to sit through a billion Norbits a year, Juno most certainly would be like finding water in the desert. I’d probably hail it as the second coming. But it’s not. Its just a sweet movie, about a really sarcastic girl who, gets pregnant and decides to have this baby, but give it to the chick form Alias who’s married to the guy from arrested development, and along the way she has some very funny and heart wrenching encounters. Oh and J Jonah Jameson and the CJ form the West Wing are her parents. And it has a totally “indie” soundtrack, most of the songs I already had on my Ipod. And, and…. This should be my movie! This is my bread and butter, people! I should drink this up like Daniel Plainview drinks milkshakes. As a close friend said when I asked him if he had seen Juno, “You mean the movie that’s going to be my favorite movie of the year?” Well it wasn’t his favorite (he feels very much the same way about it that I do) he didn’t love it. And neither did I. And like a scorn lover, I think I kinda resent it for it. I’ve seen it twice now, once by myself, and the second with friends. And I thought the same thing twice:

Man, nineteen year old me would have loved this movie.

But I’m not nineteen anymore, I’m twenty-four. And maybe growing up is hard to do (or is that breaking up?) but I can’t get passed this feeling, that my affection isn’t quite pure for it.

When people look back at 2007 in cinematic terms, I think they will say two things. One, it was the year of the Western (or the varied return there of: Jesse James, No Country, There Will be Blood, and the criminally overlooked 3:10 to Yuma) Second; it was the year of the abortion movies. Or should I say, not abortion movies. Knocked Up, Waitress, and Juno form the trifecta of girls who are going to see this thing through, and man we should laugh at it, and sometimes get misty. On the opposite end of that spectrum is 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days which is about a college girl and her roommate actually going to get an abortion behind the iron curtain. Leave it to the foreigners to confront you with dramatic, hard-hitting realism. Over here in America though (where no one will see 4 Months, which came out Jan 25th. Find your local art-houses), we like our non-abortion fantasies. In these worlds, Seth Rogen gets Katherine Heigl, and Michael Cera, Ellen Page. Bravo to those boys. Heigl has an excuse though; she was drunk. Ellen Page, despite this being her first time, apparently didn’t realize Bleaker didn’t have a rubber on. One assumes Juno thought he had one of those “dick skin” condoms Rogen talks about in Knocked Up. You know, the ones where you “hollow out a dick, and put it on.” Sidenote, I loved Knocked Up. I thought it was hilarious, and laughed thoroughly with my friends while watching it in the theatre. I never once tried to bash it for the things its detractors appall (its rampant misogynism) because I never took it for more then it was, a fantasy and a good time.

Juno is a fantasy too because, make no mistake, no sixteen year old girl is Ellen Page. I have a goddaughter who’s thirteen, and she can barely get half the pop culture references I throw around, let alone Juno. And she’s more likely to listen to Britney Spears than Iggy Pop. But then again she’s a real teenager and Juno, is most definitely not. Not even close. And she’s not a three dimensional character either. This is not to undermine the work of Page who deserves the praise, though not an Oscar. What she does is enthuse Juno’s slick slang chick with genuine emotion. I repeat again, genuine emotion. But genuine emotion does not a full form person make. But Page really does make the role her own, and kudos for her, she deserves it.

And I like Jason Reitman too. Thank You for Smoking was an awesome film. It had polish and was funny. This is that plus heart, and heart will always go the extra mile for you. Reitman is a smart young director, and these two films are a fantastic start to what I hope is a long and lucrative career. Juno doesn’t have an easy tone to achieve. Let’s not forget that our little Juno MacGuff is preggers, for shiz. Reitman knows how to strike the proper balance so that we laugh during Juno instead of dreading what this poor girl is gonna do. He also handles, along with the heneedstobeinmoremovies Jason Bateman, a creepy yet sincere man-child relationship with Juno. His place is one of a guy who still wants to be the cool music kid (which oddly enough is akin to the also heneedstobeinmoremovies Paul Rudd in Knocked Up) who isn’t quite ready to accept his adult responsibilities in a world where things didn’t quite turn out as he imagined when he was 20 rocking out to Sonic Youth and watching horror films in his parents basement. Jennifer Garner’s precise, child wanting wife is also a tricky spicket handled with pure grace. If Garner got to show stuff like this on Alias maybe she wouldn’t have had to do Elektra. Or Daredevil for that matter. P.S. I love you Jen. Anyway, Garner takes a role that could be summed up as queen bitch, but it would destroy the service she is for the film. I love Vanessa and Mark’s story. It throws a monkey wrench into what you except would happen in this type of film and is one of the many treasures. Reitman handles his actor extremely well, and knows, after all, that the film is grounded on them. If Page wasn’t half of what she was, this movie would fail. Ditto all the way around. Reitman throws in some nice indie touches and a Wes Anderson-ish track team and some cool tunes and knows how to make the best out of this soup.

I guess where the film goes wrong for me is the script. I know Diablo Cody (great name by the way) is the Hollywood “it thing” now for this. And there is no reason she shouldn’t be. It’s a good effort for a first timer. But it’s just that, a first time. And little things show through. Diablo is being hailed as “the New Tarantino” and that just isn’t so. First off, we really don’t need a new Quentin, we still have mileage on the old one (now if we would only make Inglorious Bastards instead of talking about it) and secondly calling someone “home skillet” does not a Reservoir Dogs make.

Tangent: why does Hollywood always have to reference the new “thing” in reference to the old? Will there every really be “a new Scorsese?” Do we need one for that matter? I wonder sometimes if this was always the case or something that cropped up recently. Was someone “the new Clark Gable” a one point? Maybe I should ask my parents. Anyway…

Some rough patches show through. The first of, and most glaring of which is the films opening 15 minutes in which I (and many critics agree) the film beats you with the “look at me I’m an indie flick” stick until I was as bloody as Billy Bats in the back of Pesci’s car. Seriously. Listen, I’m not some Cassavettes naturalistic snob here. My dialogue doesn’t have to be mumbled out of some non-actors mouth for it to be the shit. In fact I love written dialogue. Sorkin, Taratino, Mamet. The list goes on. I eat that shit up. But I don’t need Dwight from the Office being silenco’ed by someone who has a doodle that can’t be undid. Honest to blog, what kind of fucked up world are we watching? For a minute there I felt like is was in the middle of some weird tangent NYPD Blue-esque universe where no one talks normally and teenagers espouse Phuket, Thailand as an expletive. Have a teenager show you where Thailand is on the map (without using Google) let alone Phuket, and you’ll be quite disappointed. The dialogue isn’t cute, it most definitely isn’t “cool” (because those 15 minutes are quotation mark wanting friends) its just irritating.

But then, something magical happens. Juno tells her parents her predicament and all of a sudden, the fact that her Dad wishes she was into hard drugs instead isn’t annoying. It’s funny, and honest. And suddenly the movie gets tired of tossing out wannabe catch phrases (whether that’s Cody finding the films voice, or Reitman reigning it in we’re all the better for it.) and this little indie that could becomes a pleasure to watch.

And while some might fault the cuteness of the hamburger phone, or the ultra short gym shorts, the film does get more right then it does wrong. For example, a small but simple photo of Juno and Bleaker rocking out on someone’s porch is so true and telling of their relationship that I feel it was pulled form a real photo album, maybe even one of my own.

Maybe it isn’t the film at all that I have beef with, but its packaging. Before I even saw the trailer, at least eight people, critics and the studio were saying that it was “this years Little Miss Sunshine.” Now that offends me. I love that movie I waited months to see it and even journeyed out early one Sunday morning to finally sit and enjoy it in the theatre. And I fell in love with it. As I knew I would. But it was on my own terms, I discovered it for myself instead of having it jammed down my throat. This marketing truly shows how out of touched the Hollywood machine really is with the audience it is playing to. The whole thing about movies such as Juno is the discovery of them. It’s like finding a good band and sharing it with friends. I don’t want to listen to what others tell me is cool; I want to find cool for myself and share it to with the world. Juno was discovered long before I ever laid eyes on it and I really can’t love it like I love its predecessors.

Basically when it comes down to it, Juno is the prom date my parents picked for me. And while she might be all I really need in a girl, it’s just not the same as if I found her myself.

I Drink Your Milkshake!

Review: There Will Be Blood


This review has been a long time coming. And yes it will be long. If you haven't seen the movie don't read this. Just know that its good, and go see it. I doubt a lover of cinema will be disappointed.

So is There Will Be Blood a maasterpiece? Well I am loathe to say that about any film made in my lifetime. People throw that word and "genius" around quite too often. But is it good? Yes. Yes it is, it's magnificent to be hold in a way that the words I write now can't quite contain. A few weeks ago I sat through a 2 and half hour plus, Jonny Greenwood drench, Daniel Day-Lewis spewing, oil dripping epic of a character study. And I sat there with a smile across my face. Does it live up to its name? Oh yes. Maybe not to some's satisfaction but most definitely to mine.


But then again I am a PT Anderson freak. Super freak. Those that think this is a depature for him are people who think Boogie Nights is his first film. It's not. That's Hard Eight (Sidney) and all that is is a beautiful character study, a love note to Phillip Baker Hall. So if anything this film is a return. A full circle so to speak, except this time his affection is for Daniel Day-Lewis. So no this is not a depature. Boogie Nights is filled with a glee of a 27 yr old who knows how to use a steadicam as says "Eat my continuous shot intro, and my I am Cuba Homage pool shot, and my Scorese coke dollys. Eat it up!" And I love that. But PT isn't 27 anymore he's 37 and has a kid, and There Will be Blood is a return to character study from a man who has matured but still has that kid love of filmmaking, long shots and letting actors act, inside of him. He's just older. As such, There Will Be Blood is more measured in that way but pulses with that school boy glee.


Day-Lewis deserves every award he's about to recieve for his Kane-esque portrait of a man who has a competition in him, yet yearns for an heir, an equal, a family he he blatantly drops to suceed in his goals. This film, like many other of PT's, is a about fathers and sons and the affect they have on one another. The film hinges on Plainview's relationship to his son, HW and all that it implies. When HW becomes damaged, Daniel is torn, because he can never truly be his, he is now part of what he hates and longs to escapes. HW isn't his only son however. Paul Dano's Eli is too, in a way, a spawn of Daniel, though be it his ambition and greed. If HW is Daniel's heart, the Eli is Daniels black inner reflection. You can see Plainviews affect on his "son" when the beating Eli suffers at Daniel's hand is then transfered by Eli to his father Abel. Daniel's influence is clear, wether Eli admits it or not. The false prophet from God stands very much in Plainviews shadow. But that is where they are different. For Daniel knows what he is, and Eli never can truly admit his lie. All this leads to an ending that really does divde people.


Not me, mind you. I find it a fitting end to an epic tale of a man who in yearning for family, deserts and destorys all that he has of it. Some say it may not be in keeping with the tone of the rest of the film. Well that is your opinion. To me, the end caps and fullfils character traits that we have witnessed all along. Anderson makes you laugh until he makes you stop laughing, and that too can be affective. Tarantino has made a career out of it. You are supposed to laugh. It makes the horror more chilling. Watching this scene with the audience was a treat. I heard the theatre's laughter followed by a collective gasp. And I knew he had them.

I drink PT Anderson's milkshake. I drink it up. Find this film in your town and see it and enjoy. There will be greed. There will be vengance. There will be blood. That's a promise.

"I'm finished!"

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ThZI-p8SKe0